


Six String

by junebugrebellion



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: 1960s AU, Cigarettes, F/M, roadtrip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugrebellion/pseuds/junebugrebellion





	Six String

“Hey.”

Han looked down from the roof of the _Falcon_ and found Leia, hair tied back, in jeans and a blouse that looked as though it used to be professional. But, hell, everything she wore looked professional or expensive or… He stopped his thoughts before he could finish that one and instead looked at her. “Hey yourself. What are you doing up?”

“I could be asking what you’re doing out of the driver’s seat,” she said, giving him a little of a rare smile. Jesus Christ.

“I asked you first.”

She cocked a brow and leaned about against the Volkswagen, her hand brushing the open driver’s side door. “I got tired of Chewie’s snoring, and Luke was trying to cuddle me in his sleep.”

“I’m surprised he’s not trying to cuddle you in his awake.”

She blew a huff of air from her lips in what he hoped was a chuckle. “Why aren’t you still driving? I thought you wanted to get to Vegas by dawn.”

He had the urge, for some reason, to put out his cigarette and hide his pack of Marlboros. He only moved his hand instead. “We’re making time. The _Falcon_ is a good girl. Thought I might have a smoke out here.”

She muttered something under her breath, something about how _Millennium Falcon_ was the stupidest name for a damn Volkswagen bus she’d ever heard. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.” He scooted over, patting the steel body of his van. “Here, you just put your foot on the floor there, and then on the window roller, and then you shimmy-“

“Hand,” she ordered, carefully balancing between the window crank and the sill, her hand outreached for his. The touch was almost too much, and Han cursed himself out for half a second. Who the hell was he, some high school girl going to prom? Jesus Christ. He wasn’t quite sure who was pulling who, but she ended up seated next to him, her knees clutched close to her chest. “Are those Marlboros?”

“Yeah,” Han said, closing the box and showing her the label. “You smoke?”

“I have before. It’s not my thing. One of my friends back in ‘Frisco, though, he does.”

“Oh.” He’d almost forgotten that people had friends who weren’t trapped in vans with him. “He a friend or a _friend?”_

“His name’s Kes,” she said, shooting him one of her Looks. “He’s engaged. He and Shara met each other over in Vietnam.”

“They why you’re all fired up about the protests?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “Lots of reasons.”

 _Lots of secrets, too._ Did he even know her last name?

“You say it like you’re not against the war.” She sounded like she had him cuffed to a chair and her basement, like she’d had him tied to the rack for days. “You said you were running from the draft, didn’t you?”

Well, if he wanted to know more about her, he’d have to give her a bit about him, wouldn’t he? “I actually… I don’t have a permanent address. So I can’t be drafted.”

Her brows furrowed, and he saw the question of homelessness on her lips. She elected not to ask, however, before asking another question. “So why are you driving across the country, then?”

“It’s sort of a long story.”

“Does it have anything to do with the drugs in the back of the van?”

His face pulled into an expression of poorly-subdued alarm. “What? _Drugs?_ No. _Me?_ With _drugs?_ You are one silly goose, sweetheart. I’ve… I’ve never even _heard_ of drugs.”

It was amazing, really, how often he got that look from her or Chewie. “You just threw a blanket over the pile. You are hiding a pile of drugs with a quilt.”

“And not one officer has found them yet, thanks.”

“I could call the police,” she said, looking at him with a grin that could only be described as impish.

He smirked at her. “You go ahead and call the cops, sweetheart. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much _you_ hide. Pistol in your purse, what I’d guess is a thousand dollars cash. You look like a nice girl, sure, but you’re sure as hell running from something.”

That seemed to shut her up. She looked down to her moccasins and turned her foot a bit, watching the beads move. Her lips were set in a purse, a pout, and Jesus fucking Christ, if Han could just lean in and kiss her… “So no cops, then.”

“I mean, you are _welcome_ to call. But I’ll dump your ass on the side of the highway.”

“Like you could ever.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She looked up to him from her shoes. “You have a mute man and a teenage boy who’d never Bozeman before he met you. Do you really expect me to believe that you’d leave me on the side of the road? _Me,_ a pretty little princess, as you’re so fond of calling me?”

“Hey, kid,” he warned, but he could only put so much effort into lying to her face, “my sympathies only go so far.”

“Is that right.”

His fingers clenched and unclenched. This girl could see straight through him like he was made of glass, she could. Fucking Californians, with their liberal ideals and expensive jewelry and gorgeous long hair. “Can’t I just have a smoke?”

“I’m not stopping you, hotshot.”

“Really? The smoke won’t hurt Your Grace’s delicate little lungs?”

She looked him dead in the eye and plucked the cigarette from his fingers before taking a long draw. With a steel gaze, she blew the smoke into his face. He was halfway to pouncing on her and taking her right on the damn roof before she coughed so hard there were tears in her eyes. “God!” she sputtered, setting the cigarette down and waving the smoke away from her face. “What in God’s name do they put in those things?”

He laughed, to put it lightly. He threw his hand down onto the steel and tossed his head back and laughed like he hadn’t in a long while. Eventually, she did, too. “Not so tough now, are you, Princess?”

She swatted him in the shoulder. “I’m going to get a drink, and then I’m going to bed.” Leia slipped off the roof and onto the ground, bouncing up as Han watched, silently making sure the drop didn’t hurt her knees.

“Hey, Leia?” he asked before realizing he’d opened his mouth.

She turned to look at him, her long braid fuzzy around the edges, her eyes catching the starlight. Jesus. “Yeah?”

“What are you running from?”    

Her lips quirked, up or down, Han couldn’t tell. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”

He huffed a little, half of it a chuckle. “Night, Lei.”

“Goodnight, Han. Don’t smoke that whole pack.” She dipped into the van and shut the door.

“No promises.”


End file.
